"Today, we say the only thing we have to fear is four more years of George Bush."
Noted, Senator.
Elsewhere in his speech, Kennedy quipped:
We bear no ill will toward our opponents. In fact, we'd be happy to have them over for a polite little tea party. I know just the place - right down the road at Boston Harbor.
Yes, folks, that's Ted Kennedy joking about throwing people in the water on the 35th anniversary month of Chappaquiddick. Then again, good taste has never been the Senator's strong point.
Ofc. Krupke at 6:18 PM
Permalink |
---------------------
Permalink |
---------------------
Yesterday I went to the department funeral for one of our officers who was killed last weekend. It wasn't dramatic or heroic - he died like thousands of other people die, on his day off, riding his motorcycle, going to the beach. He was riding alongside his wife when a car pulled out in front of him suddenly, cutting him off. While braking and trying to evade, he laid his bike down and his momentum carried him into an end-over-end crash. They took him to the best trauma center in the Southern City metro area, where he fought for thirteen hours before he was gone. By coincidence, I backed up a state trooper on a traffic stop a day or so later, who had been one of the responding troopers who worked the accident (the highway patrol work all accidents where a law enforcement officer is involved), measuring skid lines and marking the pavement in orange to indicate the impact points. The trooper told me it was surprising that he had lived as long as he had.
Sgt. Spike and I weren't tight buddies, but we had worked together when I was assigned downtown, where he worked as a unit detective. When I met him, he had just returned from a long stretch in Kosovo with his Guard unit. He was always full of jokes and light-hearted teasing, as so many cops are. Even after we both transferred out of downtown, he always remembered me, and never failed to say hi. He liked that I had been in the service, too. I don't recall that I ever saw him without a wide grin on his face. He was forty years old, and four months from his third wedding anniversary.
A number of us mustered at the station at noon, and they bussed us over to the chapel. It was a voluntary detail, but a large crowd of cops were there, and there were officers from elsewhere in the state. They lined us in ranks along the approach to the chapel, and we threw up salutes as the hearse passed, led by a contingent of motor cops from our Traffic division, followed by the limo and his family. The SCPD pipe band played "Amazing Grace". I'm not sure how that became the custom at police funerals (this is my third), but I'll probably never hear that song quite the same way again.
The police and National Guard chaplains spoke about pain and loss and hope, how Spike was one of God's servants, a peacemaker who was called home for reasons that we cannot know in this life. Nothing against the chaplains, and maybe it was just because I had worked midnight shift the night before and was fading fast. But it sounded hollow, and didn't make me feel any better.
I suppose I shouldn't complain. A buddy of mine from the Marines went into the NYPD, and he and his academy class were at One Police Plaza on the morning of 9-11. "I saw all those guys go past," he told me when I was finally able to pierce the jammed cellular networks of New York and talk to him. "And now they're all dead." By the time he graduated, he had been to more police funerals than most cops have the misfortune to attend in their entire careers. When they issued his badge to him, it already had the black mourning band wrapped around it.
The car that had pulled out in front of Spike never stopped, and we're looking for it, although the description is so vague that I'll be very surprised if we find it that way. But still we look, or tell ourselves that we're looking, because we're cops and that's what we do when one of our own goes down.
The Chief of the SCPD and a full bird from the Guard presented flags to Spike's widow and a woman I assume is his mother. The honor guard fired the salute, and then it was all over. Our brother is gone from us.
R.I.P.
Sgt. Spike and I weren't tight buddies, but we had worked together when I was assigned downtown, where he worked as a unit detective. When I met him, he had just returned from a long stretch in Kosovo with his Guard unit. He was always full of jokes and light-hearted teasing, as so many cops are. Even after we both transferred out of downtown, he always remembered me, and never failed to say hi. He liked that I had been in the service, too. I don't recall that I ever saw him without a wide grin on his face. He was forty years old, and four months from his third wedding anniversary.
A number of us mustered at the station at noon, and they bussed us over to the chapel. It was a voluntary detail, but a large crowd of cops were there, and there were officers from elsewhere in the state. They lined us in ranks along the approach to the chapel, and we threw up salutes as the hearse passed, led by a contingent of motor cops from our Traffic division, followed by the limo and his family. The SCPD pipe band played "Amazing Grace". I'm not sure how that became the custom at police funerals (this is my third), but I'll probably never hear that song quite the same way again.
The police and National Guard chaplains spoke about pain and loss and hope, how Spike was one of God's servants, a peacemaker who was called home for reasons that we cannot know in this life. Nothing against the chaplains, and maybe it was just because I had worked midnight shift the night before and was fading fast. But it sounded hollow, and didn't make me feel any better.
I suppose I shouldn't complain. A buddy of mine from the Marines went into the NYPD, and he and his academy class were at One Police Plaza on the morning of 9-11. "I saw all those guys go past," he told me when I was finally able to pierce the jammed cellular networks of New York and talk to him. "And now they're all dead." By the time he graduated, he had been to more police funerals than most cops have the misfortune to attend in their entire careers. When they issued his badge to him, it already had the black mourning band wrapped around it.
The car that had pulled out in front of Spike never stopped, and we're looking for it, although the description is so vague that I'll be very surprised if we find it that way. But still we look, or tell ourselves that we're looking, because we're cops and that's what we do when one of our own goes down.
The Chief of the SCPD and a full bird from the Guard presented flags to Spike's widow and a woman I assume is his mother. The honor guard fired the salute, and then it was all over. Our brother is gone from us.
R.I.P.
Ofc. Krupke at 9:28 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
27 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
27 July 2004
Last night while driving from roll call out to Devil's Island, I chanced to hear President Clinton's speech at the Democratic Convention. Most of it anyway, since ABC news actually cut away from Clinton as he was wrapping up, in order to, I kid you not, go to a floor reporter who gave critical real-time information by telling us that Clinton was speaking.
I thought it was a pretty good speech, actually. I wasn't for a moment buying what he was selling, but it was a good speech nonetheless. It was brisk, contentious, well-structured, and Clinton's charm and wit were on full display. He did, I thought, a fine job at attacking Republicans while also pretending that such tactics are beneath him. And I'm not going to fault him for that - it's an election year.
But there were a couple of moments that made me grind my teeth. One such came while Clinton was contrasting Bush and Kerry, and criticized Bush for considering allowing the assault weapons ban to expire, "while we're worried about terrorists and how well-armed they are", and cutting funding to the Justice Department's COPS program, which Clinton said had "put 88,000 cops on the street." Clinton cracked that apparently Bush wants to put assault weapons on the street, and take police off.
I'm not going to dwell too much on the AWB, except to note that casting it as a terror war issue is pretty flimsy.
But his rhetoric about the COPS program is something else. First of all, his stated number is interesting in itself, since the program is usually credited with 100,000. He also implied that cuts in the program would result in police layoffs, which is highly unlikely. What COPS did was to fund the hiring and salary of a new police officer for three years, after which the hiring agency was responsible. This was typically done through the Police Corps, which paid for college in exchange for five years' service in a police agency. I have some minor quibbles with the concept behind Police Corps, but that's a rant for another time.
Sounds good, right? The problem is that while the agency hires and trains the new officer, the federal government determines how that officer will be utilized. The COPS funding was to be used for "community-oriented policing", whatever that is. A Police Corps officer has to spend his or her first five years in the agency doing "community patrol", regardless of the needs of the community, the agency, or the wishes of the officer. And this federal mandate lasts the full five years of required service, or two years longer than the feds contribute to the officer's pay.
An example of what I'm talking about: two of my friends came to the SCPD through Police Corps. They're both quite good officers, and both were approached by special units, who wanted to recruit them, one for Vice, and the other for the Tactical squad. It is, I should point out, somewhat unusual for these units to recruit this way; generally they wait for people to come to them. Neither officer could do it, because they were only on their second year, and their PC contract wouldn't allow it. The department authorized the units to recruit, the units wanted these two, and they wanted to go. The federal government is essentially telling the SCPD that they understand the issues of policing Southern City better than the SCPD does. And that's the basic problem with the COPS program.
At the time COPS was proposed, the Republicans opposed it, and were widely pilloried for opposing "putting 100,000 new cops on the street". The Republican plan was to provide block grants to state and local agencies instead, and let them spend the money as they saw fit to address the problems of their particular communities. If they needed officers, they could hire them, or if they needed radios, Spanish interpreters, squad car tires, mentoring programs, stiletto heels for the Vice Squad, whatever. It was a better plan. But it wouldn't allow the Clinton Administration to brag about their 100,000 cops (or so).
I think it's fair to say that I am aware of the issue of police manpower. We have a problem with it here in the SCPD, which occasionally tilts toward crisis proportions. But because I can identify a problem doesn't mean I'm enthusiastic for an overreaching, wasteful federal program to "fix" it.
I thought it was a pretty good speech, actually. I wasn't for a moment buying what he was selling, but it was a good speech nonetheless. It was brisk, contentious, well-structured, and Clinton's charm and wit were on full display. He did, I thought, a fine job at attacking Republicans while also pretending that such tactics are beneath him. And I'm not going to fault him for that - it's an election year.
But there were a couple of moments that made me grind my teeth. One such came while Clinton was contrasting Bush and Kerry, and criticized Bush for considering allowing the assault weapons ban to expire, "while we're worried about terrorists and how well-armed they are", and cutting funding to the Justice Department's COPS program, which Clinton said had "put 88,000 cops on the street." Clinton cracked that apparently Bush wants to put assault weapons on the street, and take police off.
I'm not going to dwell too much on the AWB, except to note that casting it as a terror war issue is pretty flimsy.
But his rhetoric about the COPS program is something else. First of all, his stated number is interesting in itself, since the program is usually credited with 100,000. He also implied that cuts in the program would result in police layoffs, which is highly unlikely. What COPS did was to fund the hiring and salary of a new police officer for three years, after which the hiring agency was responsible. This was typically done through the Police Corps, which paid for college in exchange for five years' service in a police agency. I have some minor quibbles with the concept behind Police Corps, but that's a rant for another time.
Sounds good, right? The problem is that while the agency hires and trains the new officer, the federal government determines how that officer will be utilized. The COPS funding was to be used for "community-oriented policing", whatever that is. A Police Corps officer has to spend his or her first five years in the agency doing "community patrol", regardless of the needs of the community, the agency, or the wishes of the officer. And this federal mandate lasts the full five years of required service, or two years longer than the feds contribute to the officer's pay.
An example of what I'm talking about: two of my friends came to the SCPD through Police Corps. They're both quite good officers, and both were approached by special units, who wanted to recruit them, one for Vice, and the other for the Tactical squad. It is, I should point out, somewhat unusual for these units to recruit this way; generally they wait for people to come to them. Neither officer could do it, because they were only on their second year, and their PC contract wouldn't allow it. The department authorized the units to recruit, the units wanted these two, and they wanted to go. The federal government is essentially telling the SCPD that they understand the issues of policing Southern City better than the SCPD does. And that's the basic problem with the COPS program.
At the time COPS was proposed, the Republicans opposed it, and were widely pilloried for opposing "putting 100,000 new cops on the street". The Republican plan was to provide block grants to state and local agencies instead, and let them spend the money as they saw fit to address the problems of their particular communities. If they needed officers, they could hire them, or if they needed radios, Spanish interpreters, squad car tires, mentoring programs, stiletto heels for the Vice Squad, whatever. It was a better plan. But it wouldn't allow the Clinton Administration to brag about their 100,000 cops (or so).
I think it's fair to say that I am aware of the issue of police manpower. We have a problem with it here in the SCPD, which occasionally tilts toward crisis proportions. But because I can identify a problem doesn't mean I'm enthusiastic for an overreaching, wasteful federal program to "fix" it.
Ofc. Krupke at 11:07 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
26 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
26 July 2004
New York Times "Public Editor" Daniel Okrent has written a piece entitled, "Is The New York Times a Liberal Newspaper"?
Next week: "Is the Pope Catholic"?
Next week: "Is the Pope Catholic"?
Ofc. Krupke at 8:50 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
23 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
23 July 2004
UPDATE:
On 20 July I wrote about the search for a fugitive that had killed a cop in another jurisdiction. Since then, the suspect has been caught, picked up by cops in another state. Good job, guys.
On 20 July I wrote about the search for a fugitive that had killed a cop in another jurisdiction. Since then, the suspect has been caught, picked up by cops in another state. Good job, guys.
Ofc. Krupke at 9:59 PM
Permalink |
---------------------
22 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
22 July 2004
For the title of "Most Inappropriate and Icky Paean to Michael Moore in Mainstream Media", it will be tough to beat Ann Hornaday, film critic for The Washington Post. At the end of her review of the pre-teen chick flick Sleepover, she writes:
Come to think of it, the "Sleepover" girls could do with a visit from that angry fat guy. He could so totally rock their world - in terms of the underlying contradictions of its political structure, of course - and you've got to admit, he's plush.
All together now: Ewwwwww.
I'm sorry, but that is just so wrong on so many levels. Why can't Hornaday just be a shameless John Edwards groupie like the rest of the press?
Come to think of it, the "Sleepover" girls could do with a visit from that angry fat guy. He could so totally rock their world - in terms of the underlying contradictions of its political structure, of course - and you've got to admit, he's plush.
All together now: Ewwwwww.
I'm sorry, but that is just so wrong on so many levels. Why can't Hornaday just be a shameless John Edwards groupie like the rest of the press?
Ofc. Krupke at 9:25 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
21 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
21 July 2004
In keeping with the highest traditions of inept political burglary, Sandy Berger is in hot water for swiping several classified documents from the National Archives last year while preparing to testify before the 9-11 Commission. The documents included after-action evaluations of the handling of the Millennium bomb plot, which are highly classified, and some copies of which are still missing. As brilliantly unhinged conservative satirist Frank J. put it, "Why couldn't Sandy Berger just steal furniture like the other Clinton people?"
Berger and his lawyers say that it was "inadvertant", apparently expecting us to believe that a former National Security Advisor isn't aware of the rules for handling classified documents, one of which is "don't put them in your pants." Berger told reporters, "I deeply regret the sloppiness involved." Presumably, by "sloppiness" he means "commission of a felony." Did I mention that the documents contain some criticism of the Clinton administration's handling of the case? And there were a few that Berger "accidentally discarded"? You know, I really don't like to attribute to conspiracy what can be explained by incompetence (which is disturbing enough). Maybe there wasn't bad intent involved here. But I've heard more plausible stories from people I've locked up for third-offense shoplifting.
Still, I'd like to thank Mr. Berger, not only for doing his part to keep the legacy of E. Howard Hunt and Fawn Hall alive, but for injecting some low comedy into what has been kind of a lousy couple of weeks.
Berger and his lawyers say that it was "inadvertant", apparently expecting us to believe that a former National Security Advisor isn't aware of the rules for handling classified documents, one of which is "don't put them in your pants." Berger told reporters, "I deeply regret the sloppiness involved." Presumably, by "sloppiness" he means "commission of a felony." Did I mention that the documents contain some criticism of the Clinton administration's handling of the case? And there were a few that Berger "accidentally discarded"? You know, I really don't like to attribute to conspiracy what can be explained by incompetence (which is disturbing enough). Maybe there wasn't bad intent involved here. But I've heard more plausible stories from people I've locked up for third-offense shoplifting.
Still, I'd like to thank Mr. Berger, not only for doing his part to keep the legacy of E. Howard Hunt and Fawn Hall alive, but for injecting some low comedy into what has been kind of a lousy couple of weeks.
Ofc. Krupke at 8:21 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
20 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
20 July 2004
Angelo de la Cruz, the Filipino hostage in Iraq, has been released unharmed and gone back to the Philippines. I confess to being somewhat pleasantly surprised. I had figured the insurgents would wring concessions out of the Philippines and then leave them holding the bag. Though I suppose this gives them credibility should they pull this again, which they will.
The Philippine Daily Tribune reports that its sources say that in addition to the troop pullout, the government of the Philippines also paid out as much as $6 million to de la Cruz's captors. In other words, the next round of Iraqi civilians and U.S. troops killed by car bombs will be on President Arroyo's tab. Let's bear that in mind next time she asks for aid.
For her part, Arroyo said, "with over one million OFW (overseas Filipino workers) in the Middle East and over eight million the world over, my government has a deep national interest in their well being wherever they live and work." If so, perhaps she should give some thought to the fact that she has just established herself as Citibank for Middle Eastern extremists. Those OFWs now have targets shaped like dollar signs on all their backs, courtesy of their government. This is not even to mention what Abu Sayyaf and the NPA will make of all this.
Another article on the PDT website notes that Arroyo is "praying for a Kerry victory." I'll bet.
The Philippine Daily Tribune reports that its sources say that in addition to the troop pullout, the government of the Philippines also paid out as much as $6 million to de la Cruz's captors. In other words, the next round of Iraqi civilians and U.S. troops killed by car bombs will be on President Arroyo's tab. Let's bear that in mind next time she asks for aid.
For her part, Arroyo said, "with over one million OFW (overseas Filipino workers) in the Middle East and over eight million the world over, my government has a deep national interest in their well being wherever they live and work." If so, perhaps she should give some thought to the fact that she has just established herself as Citibank for Middle Eastern extremists. Those OFWs now have targets shaped like dollar signs on all their backs, courtesy of their government. This is not even to mention what Abu Sayyaf and the NPA will make of all this.
Another article on the PDT website notes that Arroyo is "praying for a Kerry victory." I'll bet.
Ofc. Krupke at 8:43 PM
Permalink |
---------------------
Permalink |
---------------------
When I went into roll call Monday night, they read us a statewide bulletin on a vehicle which was connected with the murder of a cop the previous night. It didn't happen in Southern City, but it did happen along one of the feeder highways that passes through us.
We don't know the precise circumstances of it, but it appears that the suspect, a wanted carjacker, found his way to the officer's house by happenstance. He killed the officer, a 30-year veteran and captain of his agency's special ops division, then absconded with the officer's unmarked police vehicle, a white Dodge pickup truck, which also contained a set of body armor, a shotgun, and a selective-fire Ruger AC-556 assault rifle which, as the corporal at roll call encouragingly noted, "can tear you in half through your vest."
The statewide alert was flashing on every highway sign as I made my way to Devil's Island, giving the description and license plate of the vehicle, and advising citizens to call 911 if they saw it. We had a few calls for white pickup trucks left by the side of the road, and raced toward them, only to see that it was the wrong make or model. I spent much of the night prowling the interstate and highways scanning cars. I have never seen that damn many white pickups on the road as I did that night.
The unasked question, of course, is what we would do if we did come across the guy. Our standard armament is a Glock pistol, a nice Glock pistol, mind you, but a pistol nonetheless, which isn't much of a match for a rifle. He'd have more rounds in a single magazine for the Ruger than we carry total, not to mention the rifle's advantage in accuracy, range, fire rate, and sheer knockdown power. I also carry a 12-gauge pump shotgun (and might be the only cop on Devil's Island so armed), but I have that only because I provided it myself (yes, A-Cab, that one), and essentially snuck it under the radar. I brought it to shotgun day at the city range, registered the serial number with the SCPD rangemaster, and qualified with it. I never asked anyone in my chain of command for permission to do this, because I suspected that if I asked one, I would have to ask another, and another, and sooner or later would run into some deskbound prick who would say no, and that would be the end of it. But the shotgun rides in a rack mounted in the trunk of my cruiser. In a pursuit that ends in a gunfight, a shotgun in the trunk, from a tactical standpoint, is about as accessible as one locked in a safe-deposit box on the moon.
In the wake of the 1997 North Hollywood shootout, police departments across the country began taking a serious look at issuing rifles, and most have done so, at least to some degree. Not the SCPD, whose weapon policy is firmly entrenched in the 1950s. If you're not on the SWAT team, you won't get a rifle, you can't have a rifle, and they don't have a course that would allow you to qualify with one. And why are you asking, anyway?
A result of this policy (or lack thereof) is that, in my unit, our armament and manpower levels are such that a single half-trained and properly motivated individual with a rifle could hold the Devil's Island law enforcement apparatus at bay more or less indefinitely, while we waited the 40-odd minutes for SWAT to be paged out and deployed.
You know, they wouldn't even have to buy one for me. I'd bring my own.
Later that night, Sgt. Rudy told me that an old friend of his from way back, had retired from the NYPD (he'd worked the site of the WTC collapse seven days a week until it was cleared) and gone to work as a town constable in a flyspeck town on Long Island. Friday afternoon he got behind a drunk driver who fled to his house. As Rudy's friend was on the front lawn talking to the guy's wife to negotiate a surrender, the drunk fired a shotgun from a second floor window. The officer fell, gravely wounded but not killed. The drunk then left the house, pushed past his screaming wife, and drove his SUV over the helpless cop on the ground. According to the coroner's initial report, he was still alive as the tires rolled over him. The killer was later cornered by responding officers and shot when he leveled his shotgun at them. I thought this was some rough justice, and said as much. Rudy replied, "Yeah, but you can't kill him enough times." And he's right.
All in all, not a great weekend for the law enforcement profession.
We don't know the precise circumstances of it, but it appears that the suspect, a wanted carjacker, found his way to the officer's house by happenstance. He killed the officer, a 30-year veteran and captain of his agency's special ops division, then absconded with the officer's unmarked police vehicle, a white Dodge pickup truck, which also contained a set of body armor, a shotgun, and a selective-fire Ruger AC-556 assault rifle which, as the corporal at roll call encouragingly noted, "can tear you in half through your vest."
The statewide alert was flashing on every highway sign as I made my way to Devil's Island, giving the description and license plate of the vehicle, and advising citizens to call 911 if they saw it. We had a few calls for white pickup trucks left by the side of the road, and raced toward them, only to see that it was the wrong make or model. I spent much of the night prowling the interstate and highways scanning cars. I have never seen that damn many white pickups on the road as I did that night.
The unasked question, of course, is what we would do if we did come across the guy. Our standard armament is a Glock pistol, a nice Glock pistol, mind you, but a pistol nonetheless, which isn't much of a match for a rifle. He'd have more rounds in a single magazine for the Ruger than we carry total, not to mention the rifle's advantage in accuracy, range, fire rate, and sheer knockdown power. I also carry a 12-gauge pump shotgun (and might be the only cop on Devil's Island so armed), but I have that only because I provided it myself (yes, A-Cab, that one), and essentially snuck it under the radar. I brought it to shotgun day at the city range, registered the serial number with the SCPD rangemaster, and qualified with it. I never asked anyone in my chain of command for permission to do this, because I suspected that if I asked one, I would have to ask another, and another, and sooner or later would run into some deskbound prick who would say no, and that would be the end of it. But the shotgun rides in a rack mounted in the trunk of my cruiser. In a pursuit that ends in a gunfight, a shotgun in the trunk, from a tactical standpoint, is about as accessible as one locked in a safe-deposit box on the moon.
In the wake of the 1997 North Hollywood shootout, police departments across the country began taking a serious look at issuing rifles, and most have done so, at least to some degree. Not the SCPD, whose weapon policy is firmly entrenched in the 1950s. If you're not on the SWAT team, you won't get a rifle, you can't have a rifle, and they don't have a course that would allow you to qualify with one. And why are you asking, anyway?
A result of this policy (or lack thereof) is that, in my unit, our armament and manpower levels are such that a single half-trained and properly motivated individual with a rifle could hold the Devil's Island law enforcement apparatus at bay more or less indefinitely, while we waited the 40-odd minutes for SWAT to be paged out and deployed.
You know, they wouldn't even have to buy one for me. I'd bring my own.
Later that night, Sgt. Rudy told me that an old friend of his from way back, had retired from the NYPD (he'd worked the site of the WTC collapse seven days a week until it was cleared) and gone to work as a town constable in a flyspeck town on Long Island. Friday afternoon he got behind a drunk driver who fled to his house. As Rudy's friend was on the front lawn talking to the guy's wife to negotiate a surrender, the drunk fired a shotgun from a second floor window. The officer fell, gravely wounded but not killed. The drunk then left the house, pushed past his screaming wife, and drove his SUV over the helpless cop on the ground. According to the coroner's initial report, he was still alive as the tires rolled over him. The killer was later cornered by responding officers and shot when he leveled his shotgun at them. I thought this was some rough justice, and said as much. Rudy replied, "Yeah, but you can't kill him enough times." And he's right.
All in all, not a great weekend for the law enforcement profession.
Ofc. Krupke at 12:04 PM
Permalink |
---------------------
18 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
18 July 2004
Know what I hate about wife-beaters? No, I don't mean the absurdly fashionable undershirts, though I hate those too. I'm referring to the criminal subspecies, under Genus Violent Offender, Class Domestic, the villain of a thousand bad movies on Lifetime. Of course, their cruelty and arrogance are their worst qualities, but that's not what really sets my teeth on edge. As near as I can tell, the literature on domestic violence, which consists primarily of police academy booklets and frosty Women's Studies texts written by women with hyphenated names, rarely explores this aspect of the abuser's character: they're whiny.
They mewl, they sulk, they bitch, and putting one in handcuffs unleashes a tidal wave of farcical self-righteousness. They will accuse you in a high voice strained with indignation: you lock people up for nothing, you have no proof, you're just harassing good people because you can't catch real criminals, etc. This being the Bible Belt, they will frequently enlist God as their defense attorney, assuring you that they are all right with the Lord, and that someday you will be accountable for all your transgressions against them. And then they'll repeat themselves, just in case you missed it the first time.
They will pound, slap, punch, throttle, and bruise the woman in their life, until she locks herself in the bathroom to get away from them, at which point they will bash away at the door with furniture as if they are receiving direct instructions from the Overlook Motel. Oh, but plant your knee in their back while arresting them and you will never hear the fucking end of it.
This description fits a fellow of my unwilling acquaintance who I'll call "Jack S." Jack lives in a pretty if unimaginative townhouse on the southern end of Devil's Island, with "Jill", his girlfriend and personal Everlast bag. Jill, an attractive, successful woman in her early 40's, owns the house, has the career, and pays the bills. Jack's employment status is something of a question mark, but he helps out by getting drunk and going Miles Davis on Jill. She tells us that when he's sober, he's wonderful.
We got the call at about 0500. It happened that I was just up the street from their house, and was there in a flash, although dispatch advised that Jill had told them Jack had already fled into the night. When I knocked on the door, Jill wouldn't open it, and I had the following conversation:
"Police."
"Ha! It's not the police! It's Jack!" (having a super-quick response time is not always helpful).
"It's not Jack, Jill. It's Officer Krupke."
"Oh, yeah? Where's your car?"
"Parked around the corner." Finally, I had to stand under the porch light in front of her window before she would let me in.
The first time I was at their house was about three months ago, and they were already well-known to the intrepid constabulary. That time, Jill had fled to a neighbor's and Jack had sealed himself inside the house, locking the front door and piling furniture against the back. One of my larger SCPD colleagues kicked the door open, and we snatched Jack out of an upstairs bedroom. That case is still pending; it was postponed at the request of Jack's lawyer, who said his client was enrolling in a serious inpatient alcohol and punching-women-in-the-face counseling program. His lawyer (who seems a decent sort, actually) told me, somewhat embarrassed, that Jack goes to his church, and when he's sober, he really is a good guy. I'm getting tired of hearing that.
Last time, Jill swore that she was done with him, that he was out. He'd done it too many times (Jack has a number of arrests for domestic violence on his record, including some from the woman he was sponging off of before Jill). So great was her conviction that it was several hours before she called the PD to arrange release of Jack's car, which we had towed, so he could pick it up when he bonded out.
This time, my supervisor, Sgt. Rudy, and I lurked in the area, and sure enough Rudy spotted him staggering back to the house at about 0630. We grabbed him up, and the bitching began in earnest. It's about a twenty minute drive from Devil's Island proper to SCPD HQ, and Jack shared his opinions of law enforcement in general and me in particular the entire way. Nothing sharpens one's sense of irony quite like being told, "Grow up. GROW. THE. FUCK. UP." by a shoeless 40-year-old half-employed drunk that you're driving to jail because he can't stop decking his sugar mommy. Were I a Bad Cop, I would have taken one of the interstate off-ramps into a concrete plant where nobody would have heard the screams. How I wish I was a Bad Cop.
After the latest incident, she swore again that it was over. Her family, her friends were telling her to ditch him. He had finally done it. Even Sgt. Rudy said he thought she was serious this time. The following evening I found the following message from Rudy on my voicemail:
"I know you're probably sleeping, 'cause you're such a psycho [Long story. -K]. But I'm sittin' on the porch, havin' a Coors Light. Just wanted to let you know that Jack's girlfriend Jill has hired a bondsman to bond ol' Jack out tonight, and bondsman's down there now. Lieutenant just called me and let me know."
No wonder my happy heart sings. Your love has given me wings.
Yes, I know about Battered Woman Syndrome. Yes, I know there are complex psychological factors involved in a case like this. But understanding how something happens doesn't mean you understand why it happens.
I went in for Jack's trial date on the new charge, and when his name was called I was told by the clerk of court that he had requested a continuance to get a jury trial, which is what he has done every time. I was the only person who showed up to court for the announcement, since nobody bothered to tell me it had all been decided already. Jury trials are a sacred institution of American law, but they are, in the current courts, also an unparalleled delaying tactic. And delay is good for Jack - if Jill can't stop herself from bailing him out when the swelling is still fresh, the odds she will press charges or testify two months down the line are nonexistent.
Someday, Mr. Wonderful is going to have one sip too many. He'll kill her, and when we show up, he'll probably try to kill us too. It'll be a Southern City historical twofer, Devil's Island's first homicide and first officer-involved shooting. And everyone will wring their hands and ask, "How could this happen?" The local paper will write furrowed-brow editorials and quote concerned yuppie moms at the playground with their kids, talking about how shocked they are, how you don't think Things Like That Can Happen Here.
Never, ever, be that shocked at anything that happens anywhere. You sound like an idiot.
The arrogance of men like Jack comes from their absolute belief that there will never be any consequences for what they do.
Typically, they're right.
They mewl, they sulk, they bitch, and putting one in handcuffs unleashes a tidal wave of farcical self-righteousness. They will accuse you in a high voice strained with indignation: you lock people up for nothing, you have no proof, you're just harassing good people because you can't catch real criminals, etc. This being the Bible Belt, they will frequently enlist God as their defense attorney, assuring you that they are all right with the Lord, and that someday you will be accountable for all your transgressions against them. And then they'll repeat themselves, just in case you missed it the first time.
They will pound, slap, punch, throttle, and bruise the woman in their life, until she locks herself in the bathroom to get away from them, at which point they will bash away at the door with furniture as if they are receiving direct instructions from the Overlook Motel. Oh, but plant your knee in their back while arresting them and you will never hear the fucking end of it.
This description fits a fellow of my unwilling acquaintance who I'll call "Jack S." Jack lives in a pretty if unimaginative townhouse on the southern end of Devil's Island, with "Jill", his girlfriend and personal Everlast bag. Jill, an attractive, successful woman in her early 40's, owns the house, has the career, and pays the bills. Jack's employment status is something of a question mark, but he helps out by getting drunk and going Miles Davis on Jill. She tells us that when he's sober, he's wonderful.
We got the call at about 0500. It happened that I was just up the street from their house, and was there in a flash, although dispatch advised that Jill had told them Jack had already fled into the night. When I knocked on the door, Jill wouldn't open it, and I had the following conversation:
"Police."
"Ha! It's not the police! It's Jack!" (having a super-quick response time is not always helpful).
"It's not Jack, Jill. It's Officer Krupke."
"Oh, yeah? Where's your car?"
"Parked around the corner." Finally, I had to stand under the porch light in front of her window before she would let me in.
The first time I was at their house was about three months ago, and they were already well-known to the intrepid constabulary. That time, Jill had fled to a neighbor's and Jack had sealed himself inside the house, locking the front door and piling furniture against the back. One of my larger SCPD colleagues kicked the door open, and we snatched Jack out of an upstairs bedroom. That case is still pending; it was postponed at the request of Jack's lawyer, who said his client was enrolling in a serious inpatient alcohol and punching-women-in-the-face counseling program. His lawyer (who seems a decent sort, actually) told me, somewhat embarrassed, that Jack goes to his church, and when he's sober, he really is a good guy. I'm getting tired of hearing that.
Last time, Jill swore that she was done with him, that he was out. He'd done it too many times (Jack has a number of arrests for domestic violence on his record, including some from the woman he was sponging off of before Jill). So great was her conviction that it was several hours before she called the PD to arrange release of Jack's car, which we had towed, so he could pick it up when he bonded out.
This time, my supervisor, Sgt. Rudy, and I lurked in the area, and sure enough Rudy spotted him staggering back to the house at about 0630. We grabbed him up, and the bitching began in earnest. It's about a twenty minute drive from Devil's Island proper to SCPD HQ, and Jack shared his opinions of law enforcement in general and me in particular the entire way. Nothing sharpens one's sense of irony quite like being told, "Grow up. GROW. THE. FUCK. UP." by a shoeless 40-year-old half-employed drunk that you're driving to jail because he can't stop decking his sugar mommy. Were I a Bad Cop, I would have taken one of the interstate off-ramps into a concrete plant where nobody would have heard the screams. How I wish I was a Bad Cop.
After the latest incident, she swore again that it was over. Her family, her friends were telling her to ditch him. He had finally done it. Even Sgt. Rudy said he thought she was serious this time. The following evening I found the following message from Rudy on my voicemail:
"I know you're probably sleeping, 'cause you're such a psycho [Long story. -K]. But I'm sittin' on the porch, havin' a Coors Light. Just wanted to let you know that Jack's girlfriend Jill has hired a bondsman to bond ol' Jack out tonight, and bondsman's down there now. Lieutenant just called me and let me know."
No wonder my happy heart sings. Your love has given me wings.
Yes, I know about Battered Woman Syndrome. Yes, I know there are complex psychological factors involved in a case like this. But understanding how something happens doesn't mean you understand why it happens.
I went in for Jack's trial date on the new charge, and when his name was called I was told by the clerk of court that he had requested a continuance to get a jury trial, which is what he has done every time. I was the only person who showed up to court for the announcement, since nobody bothered to tell me it had all been decided already. Jury trials are a sacred institution of American law, but they are, in the current courts, also an unparalleled delaying tactic. And delay is good for Jack - if Jill can't stop herself from bailing him out when the swelling is still fresh, the odds she will press charges or testify two months down the line are nonexistent.
Someday, Mr. Wonderful is going to have one sip too many. He'll kill her, and when we show up, he'll probably try to kill us too. It'll be a Southern City historical twofer, Devil's Island's first homicide and first officer-involved shooting. And everyone will wring their hands and ask, "How could this happen?" The local paper will write furrowed-brow editorials and quote concerned yuppie moms at the playground with their kids, talking about how shocked they are, how you don't think Things Like That Can Happen Here.
Never, ever, be that shocked at anything that happens anywhere. You sound like an idiot.
The arrogance of men like Jack comes from their absolute belief that there will never be any consequences for what they do.
Typically, they're right.
Ofc. Krupke at 10:37 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
13 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
13 July 2004
The Philippines have agreed to the Islamic Army's demand that they pull their troops out of Iraq, in response to a threat by the terrorists to kill Filipino hostage Angelo de la Cruz. "As of today," said a statement from Manila on the military pullout, "our head count is down from 51 to 43." Perhaps not the best choice of words.
Deputy Foreign Minister Rafael Seguis appeared on Al Jazeera to announce the decision and ask for the release of de la Cruz. "In response to your request, the Philippines. . . will withdraw its humanitarian forces as soon as possible."
"I hope the statement that I read will touch the heart of this group." Reports that Seguis removed his tighty-whities and waved them on the end of a stick appear to be exaggerated.
While the news reports are calling it a "dramatic turnaround" I wonder if there isn't some good news here. Note that in two and a half years, the terrorists have gone from "We will bathe the infidels in blood and raise the Islamic banner across the globe", to "We will make the Philippines pull their platoon out of Iraq earlier than scheduled."
Seguis went on to say, "We know that Islam is the religion of peace and mercy."
Yes, that's becoming more apparent every day.
Deputy Foreign Minister Rafael Seguis appeared on Al Jazeera to announce the decision and ask for the release of de la Cruz. "In response to your request, the Philippines. . . will withdraw its humanitarian forces as soon as possible."
"I hope the statement that I read will touch the heart of this group." Reports that Seguis removed his tighty-whities and waved them on the end of a stick appear to be exaggerated.
While the news reports are calling it a "dramatic turnaround" I wonder if there isn't some good news here. Note that in two and a half years, the terrorists have gone from "We will bathe the infidels in blood and raise the Islamic banner across the globe", to "We will make the Philippines pull their platoon out of Iraq earlier than scheduled."
Seguis went on to say, "We know that Islam is the religion of peace and mercy."
Yes, that's becoming more apparent every day.
Ofc. Krupke at 8:29 PM
Permalink |
---------------------
Permalink |
---------------------
At a recent fundraiser in Massachusetts, Sen. John Kerry, while criticizing President Bush on racial matters, said this:
"We've got more African Americans in jail than we do in college. That's unacceptable."
Number of African Americans in jail: 899,200
Number of African Americans in college: 2,224,181
Number of media outlets considering this worthy of checking out: 0
That is unacceptable.
(from Shark Blog.)
"We've got more African Americans in jail than we do in college. That's unacceptable."
Number of African Americans in jail: 899,200
Number of African Americans in college: 2,224,181
Number of media outlets considering this worthy of checking out: 0
That is unacceptable.
(from Shark Blog.)
Ofc. Krupke at 9:27 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
11 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
11 July 2004
One of the oft-repeated laments about the abuses at Abu Ghraib and elsewhere was that the U.S. has now completely shot its credibility in terms of lecturing other countries on human rights. Fortunately, we have a role model for this situation: China.
Shi Jiuyong, a Chinese judge who is currently the head of the World Court, has issued the Court's decision that Israel must tear down the security wall it has been building to prevent Palestinian terrorists from conducting cross-border attacks. "The wall ... cannot be justified," the ruling stated, "by military exigencies or by the requirements of national security or public order."
This comes after an earlier Chinese effort to demand immediate sovereignty for the fledgling Iraqi government and a deadline for the withdrawal of coalition troops. I'm sure the Dalai Lama is pleased about the newfound Chinese respect for the welfare and independence of occupied nations. Also, as Roger L. Simon points out, we recently saw the 15th anniversary of the Tienanmen Square massacre, many of whose victims are still imprisoned.
So, chin up, Americans! Through the example of the plucky Chinese, we see that you can currently have one of the most appalling human rights records in the world, and not only will no one in the International Community or several succeeding U.S. administrations have the balls to call you on it, but you can still wax self-righteous on the world stage, and no one will say a thing.
Talk about a Great Leap Forward.
Shi Jiuyong, a Chinese judge who is currently the head of the World Court, has issued the Court's decision that Israel must tear down the security wall it has been building to prevent Palestinian terrorists from conducting cross-border attacks. "The wall ... cannot be justified," the ruling stated, "by military exigencies or by the requirements of national security or public order."
This comes after an earlier Chinese effort to demand immediate sovereignty for the fledgling Iraqi government and a deadline for the withdrawal of coalition troops. I'm sure the Dalai Lama is pleased about the newfound Chinese respect for the welfare and independence of occupied nations. Also, as Roger L. Simon points out, we recently saw the 15th anniversary of the Tienanmen Square massacre, many of whose victims are still imprisoned.
So, chin up, Americans! Through the example of the plucky Chinese, we see that you can currently have one of the most appalling human rights records in the world, and not only will no one in the International Community or several succeeding U.S. administrations have the balls to call you on it, but you can still wax self-righteous on the world stage, and no one will say a thing.
Talk about a Great Leap Forward.
Ofc. Krupke at 8:30 PM
Permalink |
---------------------
Permalink |
---------------------
Now it's time to play, "Who's the biggest asshole in this situation?"
First, we have Richard Riordan, the former Republican mayor of Los Angeles, and currently the Secretary of Education for Der Arnold's administration. On a recent visit to a library in Santa Barbara, a little girl named Isis proudly told Riordan that her name means "Egyptian Goddess". (She is, of course, correct.
"No," Riordan told her, "it means 'stupid dirty girl'." Now, I dislike children as much as the next cold-hearted crank, but that seems a bit harsh. Meanwhile, the crack research department here at Analogcabin: The Right has assured me that "Riordan" comes from the ancient Gaelic for "mean prick".
Next, we have Democratic State Assemblyman Mervyn Dymally, who thundered with outrage and demanded Riordan's resignation for offering such an insult to "a little African-American girl. Would he have done that to a white girl?" Dymally got together with several racial-grievance organizations to stage a protest at the state capitol, but canceled it after finding out that little Isis is, technically, white. When, oh, when will people learn that onomastic profiling is wrong, damn it?
Okay, so it's an understandable mistake; I made the same assumption on first reading the story. But let me do something similar on the job, and mindsets like Dymally's would waste no time tarring me as some sort of cub-scout Bull Connor.
So we have a state Secretary of Education making fun of a 6-year-old, and a race-warrior who denounces such as unforgivable, unless of course the kid is a cracker, at which point it is time for us to, you guessed it, "move on."
For the record, I think "Isis" is a pretty name, plus it logically yields the nickname "Ice", which is just badass. Picture, if you will, the business cards:
ISIS "ICE" D'LUCIANO
Attorney-at-Law
On the other hand, "Isis" also sounds like a porn star moniker. Place your bets.
In the end, this story shows that we are sadly no closer to fulfilling Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s dream of a world where our little children will be judged not by the color of their skin, but by the relative hippie-dippiness of their names. Good luck, Isis.
UPDATE: I see that the American Mastodon over at Spoony's has beat me to the punch on this story. Ah, well. It was either this or a profanity-laced rant about domestic violence and the dirt-stupid things people do on traffic stops.
First, we have Richard Riordan, the former Republican mayor of Los Angeles, and currently the Secretary of Education for Der Arnold's administration. On a recent visit to a library in Santa Barbara, a little girl named Isis proudly told Riordan that her name means "Egyptian Goddess". (She is, of course, correct.
"No," Riordan told her, "it means 'stupid dirty girl'." Now, I dislike children as much as the next cold-hearted crank, but that seems a bit harsh. Meanwhile, the crack research department here at Analogcabin: The Right has assured me that "Riordan" comes from the ancient Gaelic for "mean prick".
Next, we have Democratic State Assemblyman Mervyn Dymally, who thundered with outrage and demanded Riordan's resignation for offering such an insult to "a little African-American girl. Would he have done that to a white girl?" Dymally got together with several racial-grievance organizations to stage a protest at the state capitol, but canceled it after finding out that little Isis is, technically, white. When, oh, when will people learn that onomastic profiling is wrong, damn it?
Okay, so it's an understandable mistake; I made the same assumption on first reading the story. But let me do something similar on the job, and mindsets like Dymally's would waste no time tarring me as some sort of cub-scout Bull Connor.
So we have a state Secretary of Education making fun of a 6-year-old, and a race-warrior who denounces such as unforgivable, unless of course the kid is a cracker, at which point it is time for us to, you guessed it, "move on."
For the record, I think "Isis" is a pretty name, plus it logically yields the nickname "Ice", which is just badass. Picture, if you will, the business cards:
ISIS "ICE" D'LUCIANO
Attorney-at-Law
On the other hand, "Isis" also sounds like a porn star moniker. Place your bets.
In the end, this story shows that we are sadly no closer to fulfilling Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s dream of a world where our little children will be judged not by the color of their skin, but by the relative hippie-dippiness of their names. Good luck, Isis.
UPDATE: I see that the American Mastodon over at Spoony's has beat me to the punch on this story. Ah, well. It was either this or a profanity-laced rant about domestic violence and the dirt-stupid things people do on traffic stops.
Ofc. Krupke at 2:53 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
08 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
08 July 2004
Michael Moore, if nothing else, has at least made conspiracy theories fashionable again. So it is in that spirit that I present some excerpts from this article:
Bomb Kills Oil-For-Food Auditor
An Iraqi official heading an inquiry into alleged corruption in the UN oil-for-food programme was killed by a bomb Tuesday, it has been revealed.
File under, "Well, isn't that convenient." CNN is also confirming that Karim was the main target of the attacks.
If someone killed Karim to keep him silent, I don't see why they bothered. After all, Big Media's basic reaction to the Oil-For-Food scandal so far has been to stick their fingers in their ears and go, "La la la la la".
I shouldn't be so hard on them, I guess. The BBC, after all, is apparently rife with errors. Meanwhile, The Washington Post and The L.A. Times both get caught not only erroneously reporting that Paul Bremer didn't give a farewell speech to the Iraqi people, but also using lack of such to try and make a point about the occupation. Oops.
Bomb Kills Oil-For-Food Auditor
An Iraqi official heading an inquiry into alleged corruption in the UN oil-for-food programme was killed by a bomb Tuesday, it has been revealed.
File under, "Well, isn't that convenient." CNN is also confirming that Karim was the main target of the attacks.
If someone killed Karim to keep him silent, I don't see why they bothered. After all, Big Media's basic reaction to the Oil-For-Food scandal so far has been to stick their fingers in their ears and go, "La la la la la".
I shouldn't be so hard on them, I guess. The BBC, after all, is apparently rife with errors. Meanwhile, The Washington Post and The L.A. Times both get caught not only erroneously reporting that Paul Bremer didn't give a farewell speech to the Iraqi people, but also using lack of such to try and make a point about the occupation. Oops.
Ofc. Krupke at 7:18 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
04 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
04 July 2004
Happy Independence Day, everybody!
(Image snipped to stop it screwing with the aspect ratio. It was a painting of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. A nice one, too. Sorry.)
And God bless them every one.
P.S. Don't drink and drive. The Officer will be lurking out there. You Have Been Warned.
(Image snipped to stop it screwing with the aspect ratio. It was a painting of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. A nice one, too. Sorry.)
And God bless them every one.
P.S. Don't drink and drive. The Officer will be lurking out there. You Have Been Warned.
Ofc. Krupke at 8:05 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
03 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
03 July 2004
Elections are scheduled to be held in Afghanistan, an historic occasion for a country that has known little but war for the past thirty years. Still, Islamic fundamentalists, Al Qaeda operatives, and Taliban leftovers are itching for a chance to derail any hopes for democracy. So much so, that Afghan President Hamid Karzai traveled to the NATO summit in Istanbul to plead the Western alliance for help. A resolution to send additional troops to protect the election has been vetoed. By whom, you ask?
Guess.
Tensions apparently flared after President Bush restated the U.S.'s long-standing support for Turkey's induction into the E.U.
Mr. Bush "has nothing to say on this subject," Mr. Chirac said. "It is as if I were to tell the United States how to manage its relations with Mexico."
This sudden French faith in American sovereignty was as short lived as it was sudden, though:
Mr. Chirac has pointedly criticized U.S. positions on Afghanistan, Iraq, Turkey, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
Mais naturellement.
Guess.
Tensions apparently flared after President Bush restated the U.S.'s long-standing support for Turkey's induction into the E.U.
Mr. Bush "has nothing to say on this subject," Mr. Chirac said. "It is as if I were to tell the United States how to manage its relations with Mexico."
This sudden French faith in American sovereignty was as short lived as it was sudden, though:
Mr. Chirac has pointedly criticized U.S. positions on Afghanistan, Iraq, Turkey, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
Mais naturellement.
Ofc. Krupke at 9:07 AM
Permalink |
---------------------
02 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
02 July 2004
The Associated Press opens its report on Bill Cosby's controversial (yes, new ones) remarks at the Rainbow/PUSH annual conference on 1 July thus:
Bill Cosby went off on another tirade against the black community Thursday, telling a room full of activists that black children are running around not knowing how to read or write and "going nowhere."
I look forward to the AP's continuing coverage of the Presidential election ("John Kerry went off on another tirade against lower taxes..."), and the war in Iraq ("European leaders went off on another tirade against U.S. servicemembers...").
Bill Cosby went off on another tirade against the black community Thursday, telling a room full of activists that black children are running around not knowing how to read or write and "going nowhere."
I look forward to the AP's continuing coverage of the Presidential election ("John Kerry went off on another tirade against lower taxes..."), and the war in Iraq ("European leaders went off on another tirade against U.S. servicemembers...").
Ofc. Krupke at 8:04 PM
Permalink |
---------------------
01 July 2004
Permalink |
---------------------
01 July 2004
The U.S. Supreme Court recently ruled that it is constitutionally permissible for police officers to arrest someone for refusing to give their name or show ID during an investigative detention, also known as a Terry Stop.
Justice Stevens wrote in his dissent, "There is no reason why the subject of police interrogation based on mere suspicion, rather than probable cause, should have any lesser protection."
It may seem arrogant for me to tell a Justice of the Supreme Court that he's wrong on a point of law, but arrogance is the oxygen of the blogosphere. So he is. Justice Stevens is making a mistake usually found among asshole streetcorner lawyers: the belief that the street and the courtroom are the same. The protection against self-incrimination and the right not to answer questions (under Miranda) does not cover routine informational questions (so determined in Pennsylvania v. Muniz). The reason for this is simple: you can't charge someone without their name, and you can't hold someone without charging them. Without this, anyone who simply refused to identify themselves in the booking area would have to be released without charge under habeas corpus. That's a hell of a way to run a railroad.
Now, the question is, does the fact that someone is a Kerry canvasser constitute reasonable suspicion? Inquiring cops want to know.
On a related note, in Arizona, Democrats have filed a legal challenge to Ralph Nader's appearance on the ballot, citing, among other things, that he used convicted felons in a registration drive. Apparently someone didn't get a memo.
Justice Stevens wrote in his dissent, "There is no reason why the subject of police interrogation based on mere suspicion, rather than probable cause, should have any lesser protection."
It may seem arrogant for me to tell a Justice of the Supreme Court that he's wrong on a point of law, but arrogance is the oxygen of the blogosphere. So he is. Justice Stevens is making a mistake usually found among asshole streetcorner lawyers: the belief that the street and the courtroom are the same. The protection against self-incrimination and the right not to answer questions (under Miranda) does not cover routine informational questions (so determined in Pennsylvania v. Muniz). The reason for this is simple: you can't charge someone without their name, and you can't hold someone without charging them. Without this, anyone who simply refused to identify themselves in the booking area would have to be released without charge under habeas corpus. That's a hell of a way to run a railroad.
Now, the question is, does the fact that someone is a Kerry canvasser constitute reasonable suspicion? Inquiring cops want to know.
On a related note, in Arizona, Democrats have filed a legal challenge to Ralph Nader's appearance on the ballot, citing, among other things, that he used convicted felons in a registration drive. Apparently someone didn't get a memo.